


Dollars to Doughnuts

by wendelah1



Category: The Mysterious Benedict Society
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 16:12:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendelah1/pseuds/wendelah1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A trip to Antarctica is quite an undertaking," he agreed. Saving the world did tend to give one a sense of invincibility that went well beyond that of the average three-year-old girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dollars to Doughnuts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elevenoclock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elevenoclock/gifts).



It had started out innocently enough: with a trip to Stonetown Video to rent _Happy Feet_ for Constance. Naturally, she'd loved it. For Christmas, she'd gotten a plush Mumble from Kate, whom she'd named Fred, and another, more life-like plush penguin from Sticky, whom she'd promptly named Mumble Junior. Number Two had been worried if the Washingtons could afford to exchange gifts this year, but Mr. Benedict had been assured that the family was working out their money problems.

Soon after, Constance had requested a trip to the library. _365 Penguins_ was a big hit, and had led to a burgeoning interest in mathematics which had pleased him.

After due consideration, he'd decided it was best to homeschool her for now. She was as brilliant a child as Mr. Benedict had ever encountered, and he'd met quite a few (and adopted two, now three of them), but Constance was only three, after all. Besides, he wasn't sure how the average preschool was going to cope with her when he and Number Two and Rhonda could barely keep up. Fortunately, there were plenty of books about penguins to keep her occupied. _Mr. Popper's Penguins_ was her current favorite. Mr. Benedict so enjoyed having Constance read to him, though he rarely made it through a whole story, succumbing to the narcolepsy that inevitably struck him when he was feeling especially happy. Even so, she was a most delightful child.

Anyway, there was plenty of time for regular school subjects. For now, it just seemed best to let her decide what she was interested in learning. Every day since they'd finished _365 Penguins,_ she'd been expecting to have more penguins arrive, just as they had in _365 Penguins._ Whenever the doorbell rang, she was convinced it was going to be another toy penguin delivery. It didn't seem to matter how many times Mr. Benedict explained that Christmas was over until next year and that no more penguins were coming. Constance was sure he was wrong and that she was right.

Just in time, her gift from Reynie had arrived: her very own copy of _Happy Feet_ , which had been back-ordered due to the heavy demand. Constance watched it and danced and sang along, making up new lyrics for her favorite songs. She liked the one by the Beatles, "Golden Slumbers," and the old Beach Boys number, "Do It Again," but the song that was her absolute favorite was the one old Blue Eyes himself, Frank Sinatra, had made famous. Constance loved singing "My Way," her way.

 _...and when we have dessert_  
We won't do it the pie way—  
We'll only have doughnuts,  
'cause I'll do it My Way!

She fell asleep on the rug in front of the little portable dvd player that Miss Perumal had sent her, then woke up and watched it again.

She seemed content. Heavens knows she deserved some happiness after all she'd been through. Thinking back, Mr. Benedict felt so guilty about the danger he'd put her in by assigning her to the mission that he was afraid he'd never be able to let her out of his sight again. But that was something he could worry about later. After all, she was still very young.

It wasn't until they'd checked out _Lost and Found_ from the library that the real problems started. It was such a well-done little picture book, too. Constance had been mesmerized by the story of the little boy and his quest to return his penguin to Antarctica. He'd lost track of how many times they'd reread it. With his permission, she'd started corresponding with the author via email, telling him she expected a sequel. She wanted a movie version, too, just like _Happy Feet._ "Such a remarkable child!" he thought happily, falling asleep immediately afterward.

"I decided I'm taking Mumble Junior back to his friends at the South Pole," she proclaimed, one afternoon, quite out of the blue.

Mr. Benedict looked up from his book, _Living Successfully With Narcolepsy._ "Oh? When are you leaving?"

Constance considered this. "Maybe next week. I need time to get organized."

"A trip to Antarctica is quite an undertaking," he agreed. Saving the world did tend to give one a sense of invincibility that went well beyond that of the average three-year-old girl.

Mr. Benedict tried a different tack. "Maybe Mumble is happy here, just like the penguin in _Lost and Found_ ," he suggested.

Constance shook her head emphatically. "No. He wants to see his other friends. He misses them."

"What about..." What was the name she'd given the other toy penguin? "...Fred? Isn't he a friend?"

Constance looked exasperated. "Fred is a toy. He's not a real penguin!"

Right.

Sooner or later he knew she'd tire of tap-dancing penguins and move on, maybe to dinosaurs or calculus. But until then...

"Constance, it's time for your bath," Number Two said firmly. She stood by the entrance to the study.

Constance scowled. "No, I'm too busy. Maybe tomorrow."

Number Two didn't miss a beat. "You think I'm not busy? I have plenty of other things I'd rather be doing than telling you what to do. Now let's get going, shall we?"

Mr. Benedict watched with amazement as Constance went from outright defiance to capitulation to the inevitable in a matter of moments. Number Two didn't have to repeat herself. Constance heaved a great sigh. "Fine, then. Let's get this over with, shall we?"

"Number Two, you're sounding a little irritable. Do you need to eat again?" Mr. Benedict suggested gently.

Number Two looked abashed. She pulled a protein bar out of her pocket and began to munch on it.

~/~/~

The complicated logistics of the trip didn't appear daunting to Constance; after all, the boy in her book had been able to ride a rocket to the moon and pilot a rowboat all the way to the South Pole. However, as she didn't currently have a rocket ship or a rowboat, she would have to find another way.

Later that night, she climbed out of her bed and peeped out into the hallway. There was no way to know if Number Two was asleep since she so rarely was, but she was pretty sure the others were. With Mumble tucked under her arm, she padded down the hallway and opened the door to her father's study. She pulled the booster seat out of the closet and lifted it on top of his desk chair, scrambled up and reached over to turn on his computer, nearly toppling over in the process.

Naturally, it was password protected.

It didn't take long for her to guess it. People were so predictable, even Father. Well, at least it wasn't "password."

She still got a fluttery feeling in her chest whenever she thought the word "father."

She was surprised to see all of the tours that popped up from putting "Antarctica travel" into the search engine. Huh. She wasn't the only one who had a lonely penguin then.

£4,500 per person, including airfare for a school trip. That didn't sound so bad. She looked up the conversion to dollars. Mumble could sit on her lap, but she'd need to pay for herself and one grown-up. No one would let her go by herself, even if she had saved the world.

She rubbed her eyes and yawned. It was time to call it a day. Night. Whatever. She shut off the computer and climbed back down.

Back in her bed, she pulled her blanket around her and snuggled up to Mumble.

"Don't worry, Mumble. It will take longer than I thought, but I'll get you home," she murmured.

~/~/~

Reynie set down his books and sat down at his computer. As he always did before starting his homework, he opened up his email. He clicked on the message "Emergency—Immediate Response Needed." It was from Constance.

Hi Reynie. I need to make $15000 asap. It's for my trip. Mumble is lonesome for his friends. I don't want to steal the money or do anything I might be in trouble for but I AM DESPERATE.

Your friend Constance.

That was—just weird. $15,000? Where exactly was Constance wanting to go? Mumble was a toy penguin. Sticky had got him for her in exchange for a donation to a charity, was what he'd thought. Surely she didn't plan to take him back there. Anyway, Constance had to know he wasn't real.

Or did she? Maybe her idea of real and his wasn't the same. He decided to send her a carefully worded email reply, and a different email to Sticky and to Kate. Next, he needed to talk to his Amma. Maybe she could talk to Mr. Benedict.

~/~/~

Sticky was worried. The email from Reynie telling him about Constance's distress about her toy penguin upset him. It was just a toy! He thought she'd like it since she was so nuts about that movie with the singing penguins. Fifteen thousand dollars was a lot of money, especially to take a toy penguin on vacation. He didn't have the money. After he'd run away, his parents had spent most of their savings on finding him. Goodness knows Mr. Benedict didn't have the money. His life-savings had been spent thwarting his evil twin's plans for world domination! His house in Stonetown was practically falling down as a result. Anyway, Antarctica sounded beautiful but it was really cold and awfully far away.

There was no way Constance was going to take Mumble to Antarctica, not by next week.

He opened Kate's email. Huh. Kate thought Reynie's plan an excellent one and she thought her dad could help, too, since he had contacts from all over the world from his old job. Kate was certain he'd know of someone from Antarctica who would help.

Maybe Reynie was right: Constance could be lonely, cooped up in that creaky old house with only three adults for company. He sent an email to Reynie and one to Kate, then another email to Constance. Maybe Reynie's plan would work.

~/~/~

Raising money for the trip without telling lies to people or stealing was going to be harder than she'd thought. There just weren't any jobs for three-year-old girls, except acting in dumb movies and modeling over-priced clothes for magazines. She was smart enough to work, and she certainly had plenty of time on her hands. After being adopted by Mr. Benedict—she reminded herself once again to think of him as Father—she didn't have to worry about where to sleep or how to get enough to eat.

It wasn't that she wanted to go back to sleeping in the central library. She liked it here. But she didn't like taking baths or eating healthy foods or going to bed "at a reasonable hour." She was used to napping when she wanted, not when someone else— like her new sister Number Two— thought it was a good idea.

Even the bed was strange. Sometimes it was easier to fall asleep on the floor in the corner than in her new bed.

She looked down at the bowl of plain oatmeal in front of her, thinking nostalgically of the day-old doughnuts from the bakery across from the library. She liked jelly doughnuts best because they didn't have any pesky holes. She could announce that she wasn't going to eat the porridge. But that didn't matter to Number Two. She'd probably just take it to the kitchen to reheat for lunch. Constance figured she might as well eat it now. Maybe she could ask Rhonda for some raisins? She seemed easier to influence than Number Two.

It had been a week since she'd sent her message to Reynie and she hadn't been able to check her email. If anyone asked, she'd swear Number Two never slept! That was another thing. Living at the library had given her 24 hour a day access to the internet. Here she had to ask permission to use Mr. Bene—Father's computer unless he was away or asleep for longer than two minutes.

She needed her own computer.

Money. She needed money.

Sighing, she picked up her spoon. She'd think of something, she always did.

Mr. Benedict looked up from his newspaper. "Maybe a trip to the library could be worked in later this morning. Or maybe you'd rather go to the playground at the park?"

Constance brightened. "The library, please." Good. She could look on the library computer to see if there was a message from Reynie, and if there was, send a reply. Maybe she could check out some books on Antarctica. "And maybe the park in the afternoon?"

"I'll take her today, Father." Rhonda smiled. "I need some new reading material, too."

Constance doubted that. There were books everywhere in this house, double-stacked on the bookshelves, piled on top of the tables, even sitting in piles on the floor. That was the one thing that reminded her of her old home at the central library. It even smelled the same as the library.

Now if they could just get some candy and some doughnuts in here.

~/~/~

Rhonda was worried. Constance wasn't acting like her normal self. She knew from personal experience that getting used to a new place to live and a new, ready-made family wasn't easy. It hadn't been that long ago for her. She tentatively reached down and clasped her little sister's hand and gave it a squeeze.

Constance frowned and pulled her hand away. "I'm not a baby, you know. I don't need anyone to hold my hand when we cross the street."

Rhonda hid a smile. That sounded more like Constance. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Constance looked disgusted. "Not really. That branch doesn't have much about Antarctica and you can't necessarily trust the information you find on the internet." She brightened. "I checked my email. There was a message from Reynie, and one from Sticky and one from Kate, too."

Rhonda wanted to ask about the other kids but she was afraid if she did, Constance would rebuff her.

"You know you can request books from other branches to be sent to ours. Also, Father has a complete set of the Encyclopedia Britannica and a subscription for the online edition. He's rather protective of his books but I think he can be convinced to let you use it, as long as you wash your hands before you touch the pages," she offered instead.

Constance rolled her eyes. "Everyone is so obsessed with being clean. What's the point of all this washing up? Everything just gets dirty again."

Rhonda nodded. "True, but we wash our hands and take baths to stay healthy. We brush our teeth to keep them clean and healthy so we don't get cavities." She doubted Constance had ever seen a dentist. She needed to remind Father about that. "We wash our dishes and keep our kitchen clean..."

"I get it!" Constance glared at her. "Stop treating me like I don't know anything!"

Rhonda decided to change the subject. "We're almost at the park. If you want, I'll hold Mumble for you so you can play."

Constance cuddled Mumble protectively. "Mumble likes the slide and the swings. You can hold my backpack if you want."

~/~/~

Too soon, it was time to head home from the park. She and Mumble had swung on the swings and climbed on the monkeybars and played in the sandbox. There was a boy there who had a bear in tow. They shared his bucket and shovel and made an iceberg. She told him about her planned trip to Antarctica. He didn't know anything about the continent but he had seen _Happy Feet_ , at least. Next time she'd borrow _Lost and Found_ from the library to show him.

Getting back into the house through the maze was always tedious, but it seemed to Constance as though it was taking even longer than usual. Finally, they made it to the entryway.

Father was lying on the floor, snoring gently, Number Two by his side. She was holding a postcard.

"Here, Constance," she said wearily. "This is addressed to Mumble." She held out the card.

Constance took it from her. It was a picture of a penguin. She turned it over and read the message aloud.

_Dear Mumble Junior, Hey, what's up, dude? Weather's been great here, actually got into the high minus twenties this week. We miss you, too, buddy. Write us back, okay? You can send it care of McMurdo Station. Your friends, The Amigos_

"See Mumble, your friends haven't forgotten you," Constance said, smiling contentedly.

Over the next few weeks, Constance and Mumble Junior got emails from Reynie and Sticky. Reynie sent her little puzzles to work out and Sticky sent her a quiz every week on different topics related to Antarctica. Kate sent her a plastic bucket and shovel for her very own, a photo of her and her dad, working together on their new farm, and an invitation to visit as soon as possible.

Constance was happy that her friends were keeping in touch but she was still worried about Mumble. But once the postcards started arriving regularly from McMurdo Station, Antarctica addressed to Mumble Junior, she knew he was going to be okay, at least until she could save up for the trip. Rhonda helped Constance help him keep up on his correspondence with "The Amigos."

Best of all, Reynie and Miss Perumal came over regularly for dinner and a movie. Sometimes they even watched _Happy Feet_ with her and Mumble Junior. Every now and again, they gave in to her pleas and brought doughnuts, too.

_I did it my way._

The end.


End file.
